Ice T - Personal Lyrics
Emcees no time out,its time to rhyme outYouve dug your own grave,now you must climb outDig out,crawl out,hide from the falloutcause when I get mad I go all outIce cooler than the coldest cube,dudeAnd when Im micin,boy,Im know to get rudeCriminal background,its time to get downI use a silencer,dont like the loud soundOff my mic blast,you better run fastThe last punk that popped junk passedSpit on his grave,laughed,jumped in my stretchSigned his ***** an autographSyndicate boy,i dont fool outYoure full grown,schools outYou try to diss? ..i think you better cool outcause your butt is smoke,if we ever duel outThis jam is directed,to all of those who expectedFor me to cold be rejected,but now Im highly respectedAnd now their ears are infectedWith dollar signs Ive collectedJealous punks,i said it!PersonalTake a personalTake it personal,punk,Im talkin to youAnd if they agree with you,then your crew tooI never diss an emcee,i wishem all good luckBut if you diss me to my face,duckMy style dont ramble,you shouldnt gambleWith your grill,i got a fist like an anvilI write a record,lock it on the topicEvil and iz dog the track,then we drop itRecord stores rock it,stock it,fans buy itPeople that never heard of ice-t try itThen you try to diss? you got gallI got gold on my neck and gold on my wallGold in my fingers,gold in my earWhen this jams spinnin,golds what you hearToy,this aint christimas,no time to playI aint no child,punk,youll get sprayedIllin on a mega-villanYou must want a pine box to go chill inBuried deep,creep,no one will weepcause the next night with your ***** Ill sleepPersonalTake it personalI aint east coast,west coast,new style,or old styleYou wanna know about me? check police filesGet out my face or you might have a bruised oneBrass knuckle prints? yes,i used someI aint here to boast,i dont do thatWhen I talk its straight dope,pure factsI rock hard but still called a new jackBut talk shit,youre sure to get heard crackedI dont drink or smoke or do dumb drugsBut my posses still labeled street thugsL.a.p.ds got all my boys mugsCant use my phone for the damn bugsI live in privacy,dont like suckers hawking meNews reporters,some think they can talk for meLies,misquotes,changin all my words aroundBut if I catchem on the street theyll get beat downThey get money for hype-type publicityThey dont think twice,about dissin meBut thats a mistake,with tha syndicate you shoudnt messI hope those punk reporters wear vests!PersonalTake that personalNow the words I speak to some may sound radicalBut Ill explain,its simply mathematicalYou diss,i diss,this is creates an equalYou reply to my diss,this is called a sequelI reply to your diss,this is called a battleNot intelligent,not very adultSo I dont battle,i just put heads outA straight line is always the direct routeI write lyrics clear,to leave no doubtDont even have to say who Im speakin aboutYou know who you are,you just jealouscause you hear my records are million sellersTry to say Im wack,out on the streetsWhile your whole crew is jockin my beatsSee me on t.v. and in the papersSee me at a jam,and catch vapors!Personal
